


Keeper of Clan Lavellan

by WingsOfFire13



Series: Chronicles of Adelin Lavellan [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Bandits & Outlaws, Bears, Bread, Camping, Comfort, Drama, Drama & Romance, Drunk Dorian, Drunk Lavellan, Drunkenness, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forests, Grief/Mourning, Herald's Rest, Humor, Hunting trip, M/M, Nervousness, Nobody dies in this fic, Oops, Power for a Price, Powerlessness, Sad, Skyhold, Sorry Not Sorry, Tears, The Hinterlands, Thunder and Lightning, adelin and dorian try a new spell, booze, bread battle, bread fights, but is useful, clash of the croutons, cliffhanger is gone at the end, drunk lessons, drunk spell casting, oops who put that cliffhanger there, spell casting gone wrong, well nobody major, which backfires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsOfFire13/pseuds/WingsOfFire13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When things go horribly wrong, Adelin is left in pieces while Dorian scrambles to help his lover- as does the rest of the Inquisition. Adelin has never felt so alone, so useless, or so loved all at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry- I'm working on chapter two now. 
> 
> Warning- I have been through a similar amount of grief to that of my character, and I have spared no details. If you are like me and you don't want to cry all over your computer, please keep in mind that I have had to stop writing this, write three different fluff pieces, and then come back to this before I could finish it without tears. 
> 
> Eventual happy ending, but not for a while. Good luck friends!

Adelin Lavellan had always been very happy and carefree- if a bit sarcastic. He, Varric and Dorian had become thick as thieves quickly- each of them sitting by the fire trading quips back and forth. Many of the nobles found it entertaining to watch the trio of friends- and even more so once Dorian and Adelin began seeing each other (not that anyone knew that for certain, of course). Over the course of their friendship, the court had watched them develop a routine.

First, Varric would appear and sit in the chair closest to the door leading to Solas’ study, and the library in the chair that allowed him to face the nobles that had become so enthralled in his social life.

Next, Dorian would meander down, usually with a few tomes under his arm, and sit down on the opposite side of the table as Varric. If Adelin would be only a short while, due to being in the war room or from paperwork he had to do in his private study, the two would idly chat for a bit. It seemed that the Inquisitor was the thread that bound the two of them together. If it took longer for the elf to come down than the length of their conversation, the two would move on to their own hobbies- Dorian cracking open his books and Varric writing new stories- if it was that sort of day.

Finally, Adelin would saunter in with a half-smile and ask teasingly who had lost the last round of Wicked Grace while he was gone. He always took the seat at the head of the table, ever the man in charge- or so the nobles seemed to think. Really, it was just the seat that allowed him to be near both of his friends at once. 

It wasn’t much like home, but somehow, it made Adelin feel like he was finally home. Back amongst the emerald trees and babbling streams of the Free Marches… How he missed his clan. Especially his teacher, Keeper Lavellan and his younger twin sister, Adelaide. The older man would have liked his friends. He wouldn’t have approved of Adelin’s title, or of how “human” the Inquisition was- but he would have been able to find a few things here and there that he liked, Adelin was sure of it. Adelaide would have been absolutely in love with the whole idea, and probably would have taken to Cullen immediately- proud warrior that she was. She had always enjoyed talking to others of “her kind” as she liked to call them. She’d like Bull, too, probably. Cassandra was a bit brash for her taste.

It was the sudden change in this routine that made the court change the tune of its whisperings.

Adelin was leaning back in his chair, a glass of wine held between long, elegant fingers with his feet up on the table as he joked with his companions. Dorian was looking at the elf the same way Sky Watcher gaped at the stars- minus having his mouth hanging open, of course. Varric, a bit too much whiskey in his system, laughed at jokes long after they had stopped being funny, which of course just made the other two laugh in a wonderful, never ending loop of happiness and friendship that all three men truly needed in their dark, dark lives.

Then, in came the Inquisitor’s advisors- all looking somber as death. Even the usually smiling Josephine.

“Inquisitor, we must to speak with you.” The commander began.

“Ugh. Can it wait? I’m on a roll here!” Adelin had chuckled and sipped his wine- red as his short locks.

“It… is quite important, Inquisitor.” Josephine added softly.

Adelin groaned and climbed to his feet, passing his wine glass to Dorian as he did so.

“I’ll be back soon. Let’s have this news in my quarters, shall we? There’s a book up there I need to return to Dorian anyway.” The Inquisitor replied to his Advisors as he turned to face them fully.

“Why don’t we just come with you, Foxie?” Varric slurred slightly, using his nickname for the golden-eyed elf.

“Very well. Shall we?” The elf consented, smiling over his shoulder as his friends followed him back towards his own chambers.

~~~~~ 

“So, what is it that’s so important it couldn’t wait until our next meeting?” Adelin asked, gesturing for his guests to make themselves comfortable as he took a seat on the side of his bed. Dorian was soon seated beside him, while Varric chose to sit on one side of the white sofa across from Adelin. After moving the book there into his lap, Cullen and Josephine also sat down there. Leliana was the only one who remained standing. The only one who had remained silent thus far.

Her chain mail clinked slightly as she moved closer to the Inquisitor.

“Adelin…” She began, calling him by his first name for possibly the first time. She visibly steadied herself, falling into a parade rest as she dutifully gave her report.

“The reports just returned from the Free Marches- it appears that the Duke of Wycome was successfully taken care of. However, if you recall, his nobles were under the impression that the elves living near them had brought on some sort of “plague” and, as per my orders, the Duke was made to pay for his attempts to purge the Dalish..” She swallowed before continuing. “Inquisitor, it is with great sorrow that I must report that those under the Duke believed that the elves had killed him. They, in return, killed or scattered every elf in your clan. One of my men confirmed the death of your Keeper and several other you have mentioned- I am deeply sorry, Inquisitor. You must blame me for this.”

In the silence that followed, Adelin became very calm- harrowingly calm. The usually very open and smiling man donned a mask far greater than that of any Orlesian Queen. Without another word, Varric stood up and removed himself and all three advisors from the room, leaving Dorian and the Inquisitor alone. He knew they needed it.

“Adelin-” Dorian started, but the other man flinched away from his name as if it stung- too many memories pouring through the cracks in his mind. His friends, his clansmen, his sister, his mentor- surely they couldn’t all be…?

The elf rose, walking briskly down the stairs. He felt the stone mask on his face begin to break as the first few tears began to roll down his cheeks. “No, she can’t be. Not Adelaide. Adelaide was the strongest- she must have survived. She’s out there now. She could be hurt- she could need me. But she’s not dead, she’s not, she’s not- out of all of them, she can’t be dead.” He repeated over and over in his head. He heard Dorian calling him as he left the room, beginning to run once he was down the wooden stairwell in the hallway outside his rooms. He thought he heard someone running behind him in the Great Hall, but he couldn’t be bothered.

Already, he was thinking of how quickly he could move out with a small group- he could pick up supplies along the way at camps. If they started riding now, they could reach Crestwood before dawn, and then maybe catch a boat of some sort to take them back to the Free Marches- they could be there just outside of a week if the seas were calm enough. The horses would likely have to be left behind at the Storm Coast, but more mounts would be available once they were across the sea-

Adelin hadn’t even realized where he was until his beautiful Orlesian Courser was rearing in fear before him. Dorian just barely managed to tackle him away from the mare in time as she came crashing down on the hard stone and then burst out of her now mostly-broken stall. The elf was much stronger than his thin arms implied, apparently. Blackwall and Dennett ran out, yelling for people to get out of the way while a few soldiers did their best to block the horse from running out of Skyhold’s gates. Adelin couldn’t even pay attention any more. He stared blankly ahead, even as Dorian urged him into standing and up out of the snow. Shouldn’t snow feel cold? Why was it so pretty? No storm clouds as the Gods mourned the loss of one of their clans? Had they truly been abandoned? 

Dorian had never been so worried in his life when he saw that blank expression.

“Adel- Amatus, stop.” Dorian corrected as soon as he saw the elf flinch again- as if his own name were a whip- “This isn’t what they would want.” He tried to be sympathetic, but that was never really his forte. He knew how to hold Adelin though, and as soon as the human mage’s arms were wrapped around the elven mage’s ribs, it was like a dam had burst.

Tears threatened to flow from his eyes like rivers, and he managed to choke out a few broken sentences around the lump in his throat.

“Dorian, I can’t- they can’t see- Oh Gods, they’re dead, she’s gone, I couldn’t-”

“Shush, Amatus. Be strong just a bit longer. This way-” Dorian quickly whisked the elf up through the kitchens and back into his quarters without further incident, listening to his distressed babbles the whole way. It was all he could do to get Adelin onto his bed before he completely broke down.

Big, wet, ugly tears streamed down his face before he dove face-first into the pillows in shame. Dorian briefly wondered if his beloved’s vallaslin would be washed away by the tears, but quickly cast the ridiculous notion aside.

Adelin lay with his spindly legs sprawled out across the bed as he lay face down on his pillows and wept. Dorian sat beside him, heart breaking at the sight of him. Not knowing what else to do, he did what his mother had done the first time his father had caught Dorian with another boy- and made sure that Dorian would never see that boy again. His lips formed soft, soothing words- in Tevene, Ferelden, and at intervals some broken Elven- though he stopped that once he realized the familiar words brought on even more tears from the elf.

At last, the elf calmed down enough to roll over. He was instantly wrapping himself around Dorian- he needed to be touched right then. Needed to feel some kind of love in the vacuum-like space in his chest so badly he could barely catch his breath. Needed to give and take as much love as Dorian could offer.

“Dorian, Adelaide- she’s not, she can’t be- Leliana can- Oh Gods, why” He tried to start over and over, but every time his sister’s face flashed through his mind, or he saw his friends, his family, his Keeper... his words died in his sobs. He would never be able to look in a mirror again- the two didn’t look alike really, but they carried the same vallaslin- and that would be enough to kill him right now. In fact, looking at Sera or Solas might prove to be too much for quite some time.

Suddenly, he stopped. He took a deep, hitching breath, sat up in the middle of his bed, and looked at his hands. Then he started laughing. Small chuckles at first, then growing louder until his sides hurt and he was laying back on the pillows again, face turned up towards the ceiling now as he splayed out like a star.

Dorian, having absolutely no idea what to do, crawled farther into the bed next to him and wrapped his arms around the lithe man.

“Are… you alright, Amatus?” He hesitated.

“No, but… I just realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“Now I’m the Keeper of Clan Lavellan. I... wanted this. For so long, I dreamed of being Keeper. For years now. But now that I have it... I’d give anything in the world or the Fade to be rid of that title.” He chuckled again, more tears rolling down his face. He flung the arm not currently wrapped around Dorian’s waist over his eyes, still ashamed that he was letting the other man see him like this. He was the Inquisitor, the Keeper of Clan Lavellan- what was left of it, he thought bitterly- and a bunch of titles that really meant nothing in the end. He was still just a man under all his armor- physically and mentally.

Dorian pushed himself up on his elbows, gently moving Adelin’s arm so that it rested on the pillow above his head.

“Tell me what you want, my love. Name it. How can I help?” Dorian asked- he knew exactly what he was implying- and he fully meant to do anything Adelin asked, but not for the first time...  
Adelin surprised Dorian.

“I… Go to Leliana... Tell her to send word to her people out there- if there are any survivors of my clan still out there, I want them found and brought here- but only if they willingly wish to come. If some of them have found another clan to join, leave them if they don’t wish to go. If they’ll forgive me my failure, I will still try and be their new Keeper.”

Dorian blinked and nodded, kissing Adelin’s face everywhere that he could reach from his current angle- leaving only when he was satisfied that the elf’s breathlessness was from their kisses, not his tears.

It took him all of fifteen minutes to find Leliana and give her Adelin’s message, but when he came back, Adelin was no where to be found.


	2. Cole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intro for the rest of this story arch. Concerned Dorian begins trying to think of ways to make his closest friend feel better.

Dorian searched everywhere for the missing Inquisitor- apparently he must have missed him on his way back to the other’s chambers, because Leliana informed him that she had just spoken to the elf, and that there was no need for him to worry.

“But where is he? Why did he leave?”

“He simply says that he does not wish for the people to see him like this. He has assured me he will not leave Skyhold.”

“And if he suddenly decides that I- or someone else- might find him and he leaves anyways?” The mage griped.

“Then that is his choice. He is hurting Dorian. At this point, we cannot help him. We can only be ready to offer him help when he asks it of us. Besides, I have people watching him. As I always do.”

Dorian clenched his fists at his side, knowing she was right but at the same time…

“Fine, then. If you see him, tell him that when he’s ready, I’ll be in the library. If I don’t see him first, that is.” He told her as he squared his shoulders, trying not to look as upset as he felt.

He fully intended to go back to his library chair by the window. He did! Honestly! But no sooner had he sat down than he saw a shock of wine-red hair and ivory skin gliding along the ramparts of Skyhold. He sat there, transfixed by the sight of the pale elf. He looked almost like Cole, the way he wandered around. Like a lost spirit, being pulled about by the wind. Speaking of Cole, where was he now?

“Here.” The low voice next to Dorian’s ear whispered, causing him to jump and throw one hand up in defense out of pure instinct.

“Fasta vas! Cole! Don’t creep up on me like that!” Dorian exclaimed.

“Sorry. I just wanted to tell you that I can’t help him right now.”

“Why not? You help everyone else. Why can’t you help him? You help everyone when they're hurt- can't you make him forget?”

“Because he’s broken, blistering, bleeding. Blood on his hands, but not really there. Phantoms of family faces drifting through his mind like butterflies in the breeze. Besides, I can't make him forget his whole past. His family. He wouldn't be Adelin anymore.”

“Cole, how can we help him?” Dorian asked once the spirit seemed to come to a pause.

“We can’t. Leliana told you already what we should do.”

With a frustrated growl, Dorian scrubbed his hands over his face. When he was done, both the elf on the roof and the mysterious boy had vanished.

Somehow that did not bode well with him.


	3. Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clash of the Croutons!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this kind of sucks, I'm not the best at writing humor unless it's sarcastic humor or deadpan. If anyone wants to help me redo this and make more people laugh, that would be great!

Sera had never exactly been close to the elf that led the Inquisition- but when the news that his entire family had been killed floated up to her in her little room, she knew she had to do something to try and help him.

“Oi. Foxbreath. Let’s ‘ave some fun.” The she-elf had grinned as she came up to the sullen man, taking his hand and dragging him out to the tavern. Having the symbol of hope for all of Thedas looking that sad was not going to fly.

~~~~~

“Sera, what are we doing in here?” Adelin asked.

“We’re knocking that shite look of your face.” She replied, pulling out flour, eggs, chocolate, and a few other ingredients from around the kitchen. Most of the kitchen staff was mysteriously missing… just Cole standing in one corner playing with some cats and standing on top of a wheel of cheese, which in turn was surrounded by a few mice.

“Sera, maybe we should-”

“Hush, you. Hand me that flour.” She demanded, pointing to the powdery sack in front of the other elf.

With a sigh of defeat, Adelin gave in to whatever plan she was cooking up and picked up the bag of flour, tossing it to her.

Which turned out about as well as you might have expected it to.

The bag connected with Sera’s waiting hands, but someone had forgotten to reseal the top, and she was covered head to toe in pure white. There was so much powder everywhere that even Cole all the way back in his corner began to sneeze, the cats and mice all scattering away through the white haze in the air.

Sera sputtered, shaking some of the flour from her hair and face, then turned a weasel-like grin on her friend. 

Adelin, for his part, was trying not to laugh. The key word here being “trying”. He could feel the smile curling up his face. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in anymore, and he burst out laughing, holding tightly to his stomach like he was afraid it would burst if he didn’t. He hadn’t laughed like this since-

He quieted, his thoughts drifting back to the blood on his hands that was there, but wasn’t at the same time…

Luckily, Sera picked up on his change in mood just then;

“You wanna play like that then, eh? Alright, fine by me. Lots more fun this way.” She grinned wider, taking an egg and raising it high over her head.

“Sera- wait- I-I didn’t mean to-” Adelin began, smile already returning as he held up his hands in defense while Sera pelted him with everything she could reach except for the pots, pans, and knives (thankfully).

Adelin was doing his best to defend himself- he wouldn’t hear the end of it if Dorian saw him with this much of a mess on his clothes. Knowing the other man Adelin could already see himself being dragged back to Val Royeaux again.

Throwing up a barrier despite Sera’s cries of foul play, the still smiling elf grabbed the longest loaf of bread that he could find and held it as if it were his staff. Sera, in turn, picked up two shorter breadsticks and wielded them as if they were daggers.

Grinning and laughing the entire time, the two elves somehow found themselves tracking flour, eggs, and breadcrumbs all over the Great Hall, where Josephine, Cullen, Leliana, Dorian, Varric and Bull were all gathered around a game of Wicked Grace. 

Adelin managed to back the she-elf into what he thought was an inescapable corner near his throne, but Sera simply rolled between the mage’s legs and then out of reach of his bread staff.

Continuing their epic Clash of the Croutons as if they were truly locked in a battle, the rouge rolled away from the Inquisitor, then jumped up onto the table where their friends were like a cat. Never one to lose in a fight, she picked up whatever it was Bull had in his tankard and dumped it all over the floor under Adelin’s feet, causing him to come crashing down to the ground as he slipped and slid across the stone. Hold one of her bread daggers to his throat, she cackled and sang happily about how she had beaten the Inquisitor.

Adelin just laughed, shoving down all the dark thoughts while he still could, and took the hand that she offered to help him up.

“Inquisitor?” Josephine asked quietly once everything had become more settled.

Noticing the various expressions of his friends, Adelin let the more mischevious part of his brain take over. Especially when he saw Dorian sitting there, absolutely frozen.

He grinned as he leaped clear over the table and hugged his favorite resident Diva, much to the other man’s (now chocolate-covered) chagrin.

“Sera, go get the rest of that bag of flour.” He grinned like a Cheshire cat.


	4. Varric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric trying to help cheer up the Inquisitor. Sorry this is so short! I haven't finished DA II yet so I wasn't comfortable giving him a super long chapter.

“Hey, Fox.” Varric’s voice rang through Adelin’s head. He smiled at his friend, motioning the barkeep over to get a drink for his companion as well. He was already halfway through his first tankard. This stuff was a lot stronger than anything his clan had ever had.

“I’ll bet it is. You’re drinking some of that poison you call Ritewine, your Inquisitorialness.”

“I didn’t know I said that out loud.” The elf admitted with a warm grin.

“Geez, how much have you had to drink?”

“This is still my first tankard!” The elf laughed at the dwarf’s shocked expression.

“Well, now I know how to start this story. ‘The Inquisitor, halfway through his first tankard of ale, is already drunk off his ass’” They both laughed, taking swigs from their drinks

They talked about nothing for a little while, the weather, the red templars, how Varric had managed to shoot some enemy Prowler in the eye even though the guy had gone into stealth, the upcoming ball at the Winter Palace, how Varric would try and get some of his people inside as well to help Leliana’s people. Then Varric started talking about how beautiful Halamshiral supposedly was, and Adelin couldn’t help but start to daydream.

“I wonder what it was like when it belonged to my people, if it’s so fantastic now.” The elf smiled softly into his tankard.

“Probably just as grand and amazing as every other elf or elven place I’ve ever seen. You included, Fox. You’re one of the greatest men I’ve ever met. And I’ve met the Champion of Kirkwall.” Varric smiled, nudging the other with his elbow to get him to stop staring at his cup like it was playing back all his best memories.

“Now come on, I came here to have a good time and laugh with my best friend. None of this sappy crap.” The dwarf finished his drink, dragging the elf away from the last of his own drink and up to the table where Sera, Bull, and Dorian were all sitting, apparently waiting with a game of Wicked Grace spread out before them.

“Have you all been waiting up here for me?” Adelin asked as he pulled up a chair

“Of course they have. I invited them.” Varric replied from the seat at his right.

“Well, you could have said something.”

“Boss, you wait on all of us hand and foot. The least we could do is wait for you to finish your drink.” Bull smiled and gave that weird little one-eyed wink that brought another smile to the elf’s lips. 

“Well, before we all devolve into a mushy bunch of feelings, how about we get started on this game?” Dorian jumped in, dividing up the cards and listening as Varric started a story. Sera had a sneaking suspicion that those stories might have been one of his game tactics… Bull knew for a fact that they were and relaxed so that none of his tells would be seen, but still having a perfect view of everyone else’s tells. (excluding Dorian’s jittery foot, but he could hear it skittering around under the table. Must have an ace.)

~~~~~

Three games and five hours later, one of Leliana’s messengers found Adelin and requested his presence in the tower on behalf of Lady Montilyet and Lady Nightengale. With a sigh, Adelin told the messenger that he would be there in just a few minutes and pushed away from the table. 

All the while, his friends griped and groaned, begging for just a few more minutes with their beloved friend. This was the longest they had seen him smile in a long time. This was the happiest he had been in weeks. Whatever Leliana had to say, they knew that it could be covered in the next War Table meeting.

With one last laughing smile, Adelin managed to pry himself away from his friends and make his way to the raven’s keep. Well, except for Dorian- he claimed he was all out of money and wanted to get his stash from a hollow book that he kept in Leliana’s part of the tower for safe keeping. As they walked they talked, Adelin wondering aloud what could be so important that it couldn’t wait.

Of course, once they had rounded the last set of stairs, it was obvious to both men why this couldn’t have waited.


	5. Leliana and Josephine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana and Josephine have a very special surprise for our beloved Addie :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to continue this in another story arch- if I added all of the stuff I plan to do with Adelin's family to this, it would be WAY too long.

Leliana and Josephine stood smiling behind the table, five tall elves standing around them.

Adelin was frozen, shocked still with one hand gripping Dorian’s arm like it was his only anchor to this world.

“Adelin? What’s wrong?” Dorian asked, looking back from his elf to the other elves. Leliana and Josephine simply stood there, smiling proudly.

“Hello brother.” A dark haired elf grinned as she came forward from her hiding spot behind Josephine.

“Adelaide.” He breathed, launching himself forward at his sister with the same force that had nearly ripped the door of Riversong’s stable from it’s hinges. The shorter elf easily caught him though, and then they were surrounded by what was left of Clan Lavellan in the next instant, all of them being knocked to the ground by the two children in the group in their haste to see their Keeper.

He looked up at Leliana and Josephine, the questions he couldn’t manage to spit out filling his eyes to the brim.

“My scouts returned with them whilst you were playing Wicked Grace, my lord. Josephine and I thought it might be best for you to greet each other here.” The spymaster explained, eloquent as always.

Dorian had to suppress a laugh at the quizzical look the eight elves gave their leader at being called “my lord”.

“Would you like us to leave you now, Inquisitor?” Josephine inquired politely. Adelin just nodded, pulling a young blonde child into his lap and hugging him tightly, taking his turn doing the same to each elf in turn. Tears were streaming down all of their pale faces, and nobody seemed to care if they were happy tears or sad or both.

Dorian smiled softly, turning to leave behind Josephine and Leliana, when a voice called back for him.

“Dorian-”

“Inquisition-, hold a moment, please.” Adelaide began at the same time Adelin said his lover’s name, both standing up from the group. All eyes trained themselves on the twins. Dorian noticed that Adelaide was favoring one leg slightly.

“Thank you all. You brought us back together, after I thought I would never see my dear brother again… I.. I can’t thank you enough. Thank you.” She repeated again before the two children grabbed her hands and forced her to land sideways across the laps of two teenaged elves, who then retaliated by tickling all three of them.

Adelin laughed, and Dorian thought it was the most beautiful thing he had seen in years.

“Tamaran, Bellana, behave yourselves for a moment.” Adelin jokingly scolded the two teens, waiting until the group had calmed somewhat before turning those burning gold eyes onto the other mage.

“Dorian, I want you to meet my family.” He held his arms open, and the other elves on the floor disentangled themselves enough to make a path for the other man.

Walking closer and putting one arm around the thinner man’s hips, Dorian looked up at his elf, and was surprised when Adelin pressed a kiss to his lips. He almost couldn’t believe it- they rarely showed public affection, even when they were with the Inner Circle. 

Blushing profusely, Dorian gently pushed Adelin away to see the beautiful little smile curling his lover’s lips.

“Adelin!” The mage cried in surprise, and the whole clan of elves laughed.

“So, this is what a family is really like…” The human thought to himself, smiling around at all the elves. It felt… good. It felt like he was a part of something wonderful. He couldn’t stop smiling, just enjoying himself as Adelin began bringing each elf forward one by one for introductions. This was the start of something wonderful.


	6. Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Adelin's clan has joined the Inquisition, there's really not much of a need to cheer the Inquisitor up- but Cullen has already gotten Adelin a present, so he might as well give it to him.

“Inquisitor, if you’ve the time, I would like to speak with you for a moment.” Cullen began as he walked (more like waded) through the group of elves to the tallest elf.

“Of course, Commander.” He smiled politely, putting down the child he had been holding up to one of Solas’s murals. The several other members of the group appeared to be listening to the bald elf as he spun his stories of lives and memories long forgotten. 

“Adalen’anasal, uma il- kela, tyala yassen amin!” The child whined.

“I’ll be back soon, lethallin. Auta tyala yassen Solas tenna' amin entula.” The elf lilted in his native tongue. With a huff, the smaller elf walked over and sat down near Solas to listen as she had been asked.

“What was it you wanted to talk about Cullen?” The elf asked as they began across the Great Hall to their favorite spot- the chessboard.

“Oh, I- uh. Shall we play a game of chess first? I’d rather be out of my office for a bit. Sera hid some spoiled eggs beneath the floorboards and now my entire tower reeks of them.” The blonde chuckled, setting the pieces in their places as the two sat.

With the small, slightly less broken smile that the elf now tended to wear gracing his features at Sera’s shenanigans, Adelin began cycling through their previous games- remembering patterns that Cullen enjoyed playing and tricks to get the pieces where he wanted them. Today he was determined not to lose to his Commander(although, to be honest, Adelin was glad that Cullen usually won- it might mean that the two would switch positions with his luck).

~~~~~

“So, has your family settled in well? Do they require anything?” Cullen asked- trying to distract Adelin, of course, but the elf answered anyways-

“As far as I’m aware the only thing bothering them is that I won’t let them bring some halla inside Skyhold to start a new herd.” He chuckled, losing another pawn to Cullen’s rook.

“We could have a small area set up near the stable for them, if that would make them happy. We could mention it to Josephine at the next War Room meeting.” Cullen replied, surprised that Adelin had been able to do so well in the game. Cullen only held three of the elf’s pieces while Adelin held seven.

“No, I don’t think that would be the best idea. Halla need quite a bit of room to run about in- plus they hate enclosed spaces. If they truly want a new herd of halla, they will have to tend to them outside of Skyhold.” He finished, leaving the words clearly unsaid with his eyes.

“You think they might want to continue on their journey if they had a new herd of halla to care for?” Cullen voiced.

Adelin nodded and took Cullen’s rook.

“Checkmate!”

“It would appear so. Another round, Inquisitor?”

“I’m afraid I have to get back to my clan- I’m sure Solas needs to get back to work before the sun sets.”

“Ah, yes. Inquisit-”

“Cullen, after all we’ve been through together? You can call me Adelin.” The elf warmly reminded at his friend.

“Of course, Adelin- I have a gift for you.” The blonde finished, pulling a leather pouch off of his belt and then handing it to the elf.

Head leant to one side in curiosity, the redhead pulled at the cords binding the bag closed until he held in his hands an intricately decorated book covered in trees, animals, and at the center of the pressed leather masterpiece, the same symbol that the Inquisitor himself wore over his left eye- the mark of Sylaise.

“I had meant to give it to you before- when, ah… When we believed your clan truly no longer existed. I found that writing things down or drawing pictures sometimes helps me with my own pain, when I think back to Kirkwall. I thought, perhaps, it would help you as well. I know it may be useless now but I still felt the need to give it to you.”

“No, it’s beautiful Cullen, thank you. I can use this to record my notes on my experiments! This is fantastic! I’ve been needing a new journal… thank you, you are a true friend. It may not have the purpose you intended of it, but it will still be useful. Thank you.” The elf finished, shining he smile that he saved for only those he truly cared for.

Just then, the young elf from before came running through the courtyard and launched himself into Adelin’s lap.

“Adalen’anasal- ma ver uth!” The little child cried, wrapping his arms around the tall elf’s neck. With a chuckle and a quick glance at Cullen;

“As I was saying. Good day Cullen.”

"Good day, Adelin."

“Adalen’anasal! Garas!” The child said excitedly and began pulling the Inquisitor away by the hand that was not holding his new journal. Now that he could record his experiments, Adelin’s mind was racing with all of the things he wanted to try. Perhaps some sort of flight spell first? They still need a way to get up to the Breach, after all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some elvish stolen from a random translator I found online- Sorry! Elven in Dragon Age is just too sparse for proper dialogues! I used it where I could but most of the exchange between Adelin and the child elf is not DA elvish.


	7. Iron Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunting trip with Adelin, Dorian, Blackwall and Iron Bull. What could go wrong?

It was several weeks before Dorian really got to talk to the Inquisitor again, about three or four weeks after Adelin's family had finally settled in.  
It was a day like any other, except that Dorian had decided to go down to the stables and check up on his horse, Aiden, where he was surprised to find that Blackwall, Adelin, and Iron Bull were all saddling up their horses.  
“Where are you all headed?” Dorian asked as he came closer to the red haired elf.  
“We thought it might do the Inquisitor some good if the three of us went off on a quick hunting trip.” Blackwall replied, pulling the last strap of his Anderfel Courser’s saddle tight.  
“A hunting trip? Where to?” Dorian asked, already catching the eye of the stable boy so that Aiden’s saddle would be brought over.  
“The Hinterlands. Thought the Boss might enjoy zapping a few bears or bandits or something. Plus, he needs a break from his family.” Bull added, his Asaarash- possibly the only horse strong enough to carry his bulk in the whole stable- practically dancing with the anticipation of a ride.  
“Would you like to come with us Dorian?” Adelin asked with a soft, slightly nervous smile.  
"Ah. Trying not to draw the attention of your family, I see. Have you grown tired of them already?" Dorian grinned.  
He had just been about to give them all a tongue lashing for not inviting HIM of ALL people to go bear hunting for a few weeks. How insulting! However, since late was better than never, and stealth was necessary for this particular "mission", he decided to simply go gather his things while the stable boy busied himself with Aiden’s saddle.  
~~~~~  
Fifteen minutes of packing later- a record, for Dorian- the four men were thundering out of Skyhold, Adelin in the lead (his horse was the best-trained after all) because he moved with the most ease through the trees- it was almost like his horse was an extension of himself, in a way.  
No one seemed surprised to see them when they made it to the camp only a few hours later, horses and men smiling and sweaty from the exertion. They seemed even less surprised when Adelin gave the order to set up a temporary camp closer to where the bears usually were for the four of them, and asked that as few soldiers as possible go to the area in order to ensure that there were as many bears as possible for them to hunt.  
Later that night, while the four of them sat around the campfire and Adelin lit the wood beneath the kettle of stew with a simple snap of electricity.  
“So, Boss. Tell me- how many bears do you think we’ll bag tomorrow?” Bull asked.  
Adelin smiled and leaned back slightly on the log he was sitting on.  
“Oh, I don’t know. Last time I came here three bears attacked us at once. Remember that, Dorian?” The elf laughed at the memory, and Dorian smiled.  
And so Adelin launched into Storyteller Mode, a dreadful habit he seemed to have picked up from Varric at some point.  
~~~~~  
“...And that’s also why I found a mouthful of pebbles in my bear soup later that night.” Dorian piped in at the end, laughing raucously with the other three men and tipping back some more of his ale.  
~~~~~  
A few hours later, with the moon hanging high above them in the sky, Iron Bull and Blackwall finally went off to bed, leaving just the two mages alone to check the wards around the campsite. Both of them had offered to do it alone, of course, but neither one was sober enough to do it alone, in the end, so they just walked along the border of the camp together for a while.  
Dorian cursed when he saw that one of the wards was about to be tripped by a curious squirrel, but Adelin easily reached up into the sky and called down a weak thunderbolt that sent the creature scurrying away.  
Dorian, in his drunkenness, stared at Adelin slack jawed for a moment before exclaiming;  
“How da you DO that! Ad.. Addie, show ME how to do lightning!” He slurred, both mages swaying back and forth on their feet.   
“Yer too DRunk to do lightning, DOrian.” They both giggled slightly at the phrasing, before Dorian pulled himself together enough to reply.  
“Am……… not!”  
“Are… too.”  
“AmNot!”  
“Dorian. Le’s jus git some rest.”  
“Not ‘til you teach me lightning!”  
“Ugh. Fine! Fine.”  
And so Adelin drunkenly taught Dorian a simple spell, showing him how to summon a small cloud over the battlefield and then pull the lightning down to earth as if you were plucking the strings on a harp. When he was satisfied with his new skill, Dorian gave Adelin a big, sappy smile and then gave him an ungraceful glomp/kiss combination that knocked them both to the ground. He was always a very huggy drunk.  
“Thank y..ou~, Ama….tus…~” Dorian sang sleepily. Adelin just gave a small grunt, somehow managing to haul both of them back to their feet and into their empty tent without further incident.  
~~~~~  
The next morning, as expected, everyone had a hangover. Dorian and Bull seemed to have a bit of a resistance to the effects of the booze, but Blackwall had confined himself to his tent with one arm flung over his face as soon as the sunlight had hit his eyes. Adelin was puking in the bushes near the edge of camp, his entire being made an absolute wreck by the drink his body refused to process.  
Since it was obvious that they weren’t going to go hunting today, Dorian and Bull set about taking care of the camp- making food, taking care of their friends, fetching pails of water from the river, and finally, hiding away all but one tankard of ale so that tomorrow (because let’s face it there was no way these guys are going a full day without booze) they would be pleasantly buzzed, but not drunk enough that they couldn’t function like Adelin and Blackwall.  
~~~~~  
Another night passed, with Adelin waking up early to make breakfast (he had opted out of all but one pint the night before) followed shortly after by Blackwall and Bull. Both of whom groggily grabbed a plate of eggs and greens before finding their seats, and then Dorian, who stumbled out of his tent fifteen minutes later, immaculately dressed as always. Even when about to go bear hunting, apparently.  
Once everyone was fully awake, Adelin could hardly contain himself- he hadn’t been bear hunting since he had been with his clan-  
The smile slowly slid off his face. He missed them. All of them.   
Everyone at the camp took notice, hurriedly grabbing their weapons and running towards the forest with all the vigor that Adelin himself had held only moments before.  
He gave a small grin and chased after them, staff strapped securely to his back as he ran. For just a second, he let himself remember running through the trees with the halla all around him- matching pace with them for as long as he could.  
~~~~~  
He hadn’t meant to lead them this deep into the wilderness. They were far beyond the area where bears roamed, Bull and Blackwall carrying the bulk of the pelts and claws they had collected. Of course, those pelts and claws were laying on the ground now- knocked away by the sudden surprise attack of the bandits that were now swarming them.  
Adelin and Dorian did the best they could- flinging up barriers around the warriors and themselves, Adelin bringing down the sky and Dorian igniting the fire in his heart all around them, but their enemies seemed nearly endless.  
Bull went down long before Blackwall did. Let this be a lesson to him in why warriors should wear shirts. Once Blackwall went down though, Adelin knew what he had to do. His options were limited to say the least, but he had to save his friends.  
“Dorian, go! Get out of here! Get help!” He yelled, standing back to back with the other mage as he closed his fist and yanked, the green vacuum of a Fade Rift pulling their enemies into one spot while he prepared to cast his next spell. Dorian simply shook his head, panting as he threw up a wall of fire between their unconscious friends and the next wave of enemies. Adelin futilely tried to use a Resurgence spell, but he didn’t have enough Mana to manage it right then.  
With a growl like an angry fox, (see notes for what I think it sounds like if you don’t know) Adelin plunged into the fray, calling forth a Lightning Cage and then slashing through the crowd of enemies stuck in the center of his web with his Spirit Blade like his life depended on it- when in fact, he had taken the least damage so far.  
But a fox will protect the one he cares about most more fiercely than any other. Even the lion or the wolf. Lions run when they are outnumbered, wolves hunt in groups, but foxes? Foxes are clever. A fox will hiss a growl, bite when he sees his chance and run only on his own terms. A fox will take what he needs when he needs it, and if you think you've chased him away... you are wrong. The lion is brute force, the wolf is pure power, and the sly fox is the one who swipes the victory right out from under your nose.  
That’s why when he felt the sting of a dagger sliding across his outer thigh, rather than screaming in pain, the fox cried in rage, grabbing the assassin’s wrist and pouring the strength of the storm into him with everything he had. He would NEVER let them hurt Dorian. NEVER. Not even as his leg went out from under him and his enemies surged around him. Not even as the storm poured through him, through everything that touched him.  
~~~~~  
Dorian would not run. He would never leave Adelin here on his own, no matter whether the other mage was (admittedly) more talented than himself, and more skilled, at that. But that being said, he didn’t have a lot of energy left. His fire spells weren’t nearly as effective as Adelin’s storms, especially with the thick metal armor these bandits wore.  
Chugging down another Lyrium potion, the mage made one last attempt at burning away the last dozen or so enemies that Adelin had trapped in his cage, but Adelin being so close to the group made it more than a bit difficult to hit them without hitting him. Especially when the Lightning Cage dissipated, leaving the nine or so ruffians left free to attack the wounded mage.  
He couldn’t see him any more.  
Without even thinking about it, Dorian reached up towards the sky and grabbed the biggest thunder bolt he could find- hurling it down like Bull hurled his axe, like Cassandra swung her sword, like Solas flung his ice, like Adelin had given his heart…  
Dorian had to brace himself with one arm over his eyes, the blast throwing him back off his feet by several meters. When he was finally able to scramble back to his feet, he saw Adelin, kneeling in the center of a crater that was no doubt created by Dorian’s lightning. But something was obviously wrong. The elf’s staff lay in smoldering shards everywhere- some of them embedded in the chest plates of the dead bandits.  
Bull had apparently come to at some point, and was currently trying to wake Blackwall up without just punching him (which was a bit like trying to wake up a Bronto with a daisy, apparently) but Dorian could care less. He sprinted to Adelin, dropping his staff as he ran, calling the elf’s name all the while. He was maybe ten meters away, but everything that happened next seemed to happen in slow motion.


	8. Blackwall

“Dorian, DON’T move. Don’t come any closer.” Adelin growled. He could feel it inside him- bouncing around like a rabbit caught in a box. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, not by a long shot- he had been practically forced to do this when there were strong storms too close to his clansmen. But that didn’t mean he had been any less surprised when it had hit him- it had taken most of his remaining energy to dispel what he dared of it into their enemies- he had taken the brunt of the blow, however. His Lightning Rod having exploded everywhere was a clear indicator of that.

He tensed- forcing himself to stand despite the protest of his leg. Although, to be honest, he could barely feel it over the singing in his blood. He felt it crackling between his fingertips- this was much more than he had ever held before. Dorian might have been better suited to lightning, if he could call this much power down from the sky after a single drunken lesson on thunderbolts. He hoped he could do this without killing all of them in the process. From the way his shoulder tingled he would probably have another scar… But that was alright, they usually faded within a week.

“Inquisitor?” Blackwall called, finally awake.

“Blackwall, Bull- all of you. Get out of here. I can’t hold this. I can’t hold this for much longer.”

“Boss, just tell us what’s going-”

Adelin turned his eyes up at the Qunari, growling like an animal and opening his mouth as wide as he dared- showing the two warriors the purple bits of static racing around inside him- he flinched as a particularly strong bolt of static connected from one cheek to the next and slammed his mouth closed.

“His eyes have it too! Maker, what happened while I was out?” Blackwall asked, scrambling to his feet with one of Bull’s arms slung over his shoulders.

“Long story. Talk later. GO!” The elf repeated again through clenched teeth, moving to stand between two trees with his palms pressed flat to each one, leaving smoldering marks beneath his fingertips. 

“You heard the Inquisitor, let’s move!” He dimly heard Blackwall yell as he dragged Bull away and presumably grabbed Dorian with the other hand, if the mage’s slowly dimming protests were anything to go by.

“Alright. Alright. I can do this. Just remember what Keeper taught you, Adahlen’anasal. Mala suledin nadas lanun.” He told himself, gradually slipping the sentence back into elvish as he concentrated on collecting the lightning underneath his hands, much like a Pride Demon did just before it attacked.

Taking the purple balls of energy that he was currently holding just close enough to the two trees beside him that they began taking the energy, the elf slowly let himself sink back to the earth, burying his pale fingers as deeply as he could into the soft ground. He should have pulled off his armor first. Hopefully all this energy would go down and not spread out just to come back to him. Either way, this was never the most pleasant thing for one to experience.

Steeling himself for what would come next, Adelin finally released all of the magic that was pent up inside of him, despite the protest of his fingers. He could feel the energy (thankfully) moving down before it spread out deep beneath the earth, harming nothing except for the elf’s fingers and whatever insects lived down there. When he was finally done, the Adelin yanked his slightly burned fingers out of the burnished ground- the whole area smelled like ozone from the electricity but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He just wanted to make his hands stop hurting and sleep.

~~~~~

Back at camp, Blackwall found himself very quickly putting Bull in a cot and then running back to his tent for the medical supplies he kept there. Dorian had gone back into the other tent to collect a similar kit of supplies, and was coming out at a run when Blackwall stopped him.

“Dorian, if you get him we both know you’re not strong enough to carry him. I’ll fetch him- you take care of Qunari.” Blackwall finished, his eyes obviously leaving no room for argument as he turned, hefted a broadsword onto his back, drank a few potions and refilled his stock of them, then running as quickly as he could back to where the elf had been left.

~~~~~

When he got to the clearing made by their battle, he didn’t see the elf at first. The Inquisitor’s clothing was usually more of an earthy brown tone with green mixed in here and there- keeping to his roots, he always explained as he tinted his armor once more to those same colors.

But of course, those colors were not helpful when the elf was half covered in dirt and blood from rolling around in the battle field. He would have been nearly impossible to spot if not for the blackened area all around him and how pale his face was.

“Inquisitor!” The grey warden yelled, hoping in vain that his voice would wake the other man up from where he seemed to have just… crumpled into the scorched earth.

Careful to gently tap the Inquisitor a few times to ensure that he didn’t somehow shock them both, the Warden kneeled beside his friend’s head and pulled his head up into his lap as he had often done for his comrades in countless battles. He checked the elf’s pulse- still thrumming strong, thank the Maker. He was a bit too pale, but he hoped that was simply a mage thing- he had often noticed that Dorian and Solas became pale if they expended too much magic at once. The Inquisitor stirred slightly, fingers twitching a bit as he opened his eyes.

“Blackwall?”

“Don’t waste your energy. Drink this.” The warden commanded, holding the elfroot mixture to his superior’s lips and watching as he drank it down greedily- albeit with a look of disgust on his face at the bitterness. He managed to coax the lithe man into a second potion, and was thankful when his face gained back a bit more color.

“Blackwall, do you have any bandages?” The mage asked, carefully sitting up. His head spun from exhaustion, his shoulder was sore, his leg was still bleeding a little and his hands were burned, but he felt much better than he had thought he would. At least his fingers still had feeling in them. Keeper used to tell him stories of the his old clansmen, and the Second who had been defending the Halla from the storm when he had been struck by a bolt of lightning so strong that when he went to return it to the earth his fingers were burned to the point that he could never feel with them again.

“I believe I do. Why- ah. I see.”

“Would you mind?” He asked, turning and presenting his hands to the more experienced warrior.

“Not at all, but we should clean them first. This might sting a bit.”

The elf hissed as something akin to water touched his skin, but was relieved when he saw that his skin hadn’t been truly burned black- it was just dirt. His hands were a pinkish-red color- like fresh fish meat.

“There, not so bad now, was it?” The warden tried to smile, but it was hidden by all his facial hair. Once that was done, he gently wrapped the burned parts of the elf’s hands with the small amount of gauze that was in the medical kit- he had enough to wrap his palms, but not his fingers.

“I fear you’ll have to ask the Tevinter for his gauze when we return, Inquisitor. From what I saw Bull didn’t need gauze so much as a bit of time to put his leg up.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want him to see this if he doesn’t have to.”

“Why?”

“He… He struck me with a lightning bolt. That’s why I told you all to leave- he pushed too much energy into me, and I had to expend it. It’s not a pleasant process to observe. Especially since most living things tend to attract electricity.”

“Is that why your hands are burned?”

Adeln didn’t respond, but he pursed his lips as Blackwall finished patching him up.

“Perhaps this is for the best. Now you will have ample time to explain to Dorian what happened.” He returned, standing and helping the elf back to his feet.

“Can you walk Inquisitor?”

“Well, let’s find out.” Adelin grinned, taking one confident step forward with his bad leg and having it collapse beneath his weight.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then?”

“Do I even need to respond to that?” 

The warden laughed, carefully pulling Adelin back up and then scooping him up bridal style.

“Blackwall?!”

“What? I heard you liked it when Dorian got jealous.” The warden teased, thinking back to when Adelin had been flirting mercilessly with Scout Harding, even if the elf hadn’t meant to make the Tevinter jealous then.

With a slight flush to his cheeks, the elf finally relented and relaxed in the warden’s arms. Grumbling curses in elvish, his exhaustion soon overcame him and he drifted off to sleep with the gentle klank of plate and chain mail as his lullaby.

~~~~~  
“Hey, he’s fine, ‘Vint. Calm down before you make a new entrance to the Deep Roads.” Bull said, motioning towards the rut in the ground that Dorian had made with his pacing.

“Vishante kaffas!”

“Only if you ask me to.” Bull purred, giving that strange one-eyed wink that he thought was so cute.

“Why you-”

“Is that them?” Bull asked, pointing over Dorian’s shoulder to what could only be Blackwall emerging from the trees. 

“Adelin!” Dorian cried, running towards the pair as quickly as he could. By the time he got to them, Blackwall was at the edge of the wards around their camp and Adelin was still sleeping like a baby, one arm around Blackwall’s shoulders and the other cradled against his chest, head lolling back against the extended part of Blackwall’s shoulder armor at an angle that did not look the least bit comfortable.

“What happened, is he okay? Is he hurt?”

“Dorian, calm down. He’s just tired. And he’ll need you to wrap his fingers when he wakes up. You can look him over once I’ve set him down.” Blackwall explained, experience written in the sound of his voice as he moved past the mage and into the tent, where Dorian had apparently already had the forethought to set up a medical cot.

“Alright, you can go in now.” Blackwall told the anxious man once he walked back out. The mage was gone without another word to either of the warriors. They could hear him fussing over the elf and smell the healing magic even from where they were.

“Well, this trip has turned out a little differently than I had hoped. Wanna break out another cask?” Bull smirked at the other warrior, who smiled and went to do just that.


	9. Vivienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne heals up Adelin. Dorian gets a dose of guilt.

When the Inquisitor’s party returned from their hunting trip with Adelin riding in the saddle behind Dorian and his own horse following along behind the group like a puppy, Vivienne immediately knew that something had to be wrong.

The Inquisitor was a creature of true habit- always wearing brown and green, always riding the same horse despite his entire stable full of the beasts, always drinking red wine over white, and always admirably open with his facial expressions.

Which is how she knew that the elf would need her healing as soon as he came into the Great Hall, where she was already waiting for him with her magic gathered around her almost palpably in the air. 

As he climbed the stairs, she noticed the slight hitch in his step- the way Dorian seemed to be waiting for something to happen. The fact that he wore the jacket and leggings of his armor but no metal shone in the sunlight. Something wrong with his leg then. Possibly his upper body and torso if the chestplate had been removed. And he was wearing a pair of gloves- those things he detested so much that he usually refused to wear them. Something wrong with his hands as well? Perhaps there were more than just bears on this little excursion.

“My dear, might I have a word with you?” Madame de Fer purred, gesturing to the doorway that led up to her balcony.

“Of course, my lady. Would it be amenable to you if Dorian joined us as well?”

“Of course my dear. This way, then.” Yes, something was definitely wrong. He was being far too polite.

She had just closed the door behind the Inquisitor when he gave up his charade- pain painting new lines into his face while Dorian was suddenly forced to take the bulk of the Inquisitor’s weight off of what appeared to be a tender leg.

“Might I inquire as to what happened, exactly?” She asked, hands on her hips as Dorian pulled the elf closer and gently swept him off his feet. Adelin sighed in relief and let his head fall to Dorian’s shoulder. The elf was lighter than he looked, but Dorian definitely would have had trouble carrying the elf over a long distance as Blackwall had. 

“You may indeed. However, I’d like to have him lying down and being treated first, if you don’t mind.” The Altus half-snapped as he moved past her and up the staircase.

Finally making it to the chaise lounge on Vivienne’s overlook, the female mage snapped her fingers and summoned a curtain that seemed to be made of the Fade itself- it pulsed with healing magic that the two mages could feel thrumming against their skin like the tune to a familiar song. 

Servants usually didn’t use this part of the walkway and few people came up to this particular area for many reasons, so there was no harm in the Inquisitor being laid out here rather than in his rooms. It was usually faster to be patched up here anyhow.

“Now, speak.” She commanded, talking to both and yet neither of them at the same time.

“We were ambushed by a large group of bandits. Blackwall and Bull both went down. They’re fine now, but I had to use a lot of magic at once to make up for our lost muscle.” Adelin began, slowly easing his hands out of his gloves while Vivienne worked on his leg.

Dorian grimaced at the dirty bandages he had wrapped around those delicate fingers only a few hours before, and moved to sit next to the elf. Taking one ivory hand in both of his olive ones, he gently stripped away the bandages while his lover spoke.

“I opened a fade rift not long after Bull and Blackwall went down. Then I cast a Lightning Cage to keep all of our enemies in one area- I wanted to make sure none of them would go after Dorian- and once they were all stuck in the center I started slashing with my Spirit Blade. I didn’t see the Prowler just outside of the cage until she came through and attacked me, which is how I got the cut on my leg-” He paused, gesturing to the area the Enchantress was currently tending to; “And then the cage wore off and they were all around me. I started looking for a bigger thunderbolt to take them all out at once, but Dorian beat me to it.” He grinned proudly.

“Dorian, your talents lie within fire and research, do they not?” Vivienne interrupted as she moved closer to Adelin’s torso.

“They do, but Adelin taught me a bit of the storm whilst we were checking the wards around the camp.” Dorian explained.

As she walked, Vivienne snapped her fingers and let the Inquisitor’s shirts fall open to reveal a strange series of marks that ran from his collarbone to the opposing shoulder and then down to just below where his ribs ended. Curls like vines twined themselves along Adelin’s neck just low enough to be concealed by the armor, and then no doubt continued down his back and under the sleeve of his shirt. The fractals dancing along the mage’s abs looked almost exactly like a redder version of the vallaslin mark over his left eye.

She heard Dorian inhale sharply. Apparently this was no tattoo. Not one that he had seen before. Interesting.

Adelin smiled up at Dorian softly and squeezed his hand- which made them both wince for the elf, but it was worth it to see that mustache curl up around a small smile.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve had one of these. My first one was much worse, back when I was with my clan. It’s how they discovered I had magic. This is what happens when I try to absorb too much electricity at once- that is the mark left by the energy as it traveled into my body. It will fade in a few days as long as I drink the right potions. Don’t worry yourself with that.”

“Is this also why your hands were singed and burned?” Vivienne asked once more. Dorian let go of the elf’s hand and stood up, looking like he might be sick as he escorted himself out to the balcony.

“Yes, and no.” The elf sighed as he watched his lover go; “I had to expel the electricity but I also had to wait until the others were out of range so that the energy would not go into them. I held it for too long in one place and it, well...” He trailed off. Dorian was already leaving again. The Tevinter couldn’t even bring his eyes up from the floor as he hurried past the two. Adelin wished she would just hurry up and fix him without so many questions sometimes.

“I see. Well, I may not be equipped to handle your electrical scar, but these I can remedy. Shall we?” She asked, holding both of her hands up as if she were a child asking to play patty cake. Adelin copied her, laying each of his long fingers along her own and watching as a golden-green healing mist enveloped his hands. By the time it had vanished, his hands were completely healed. Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding (usually this magic was much more painful) he thankd Madame de Fer, and went out to search for Dorian.

“My dear, hold a moment.”

“Yes, my lady?” Adelin turned, dancing from foot to foot in his eagerness to find the other made before he did something stupid like try and leave without a coat during a blizzard AGAIN.

“I understand that Dorian did not intend to mar you in this way, however I do believe that he should not have-”

“-Vivienne, forgive my manners, but I don’t believe that is any of your business. He saved us from the bandits. He kept me from being slaughtered. I would wager that one ricochet in the middle of an impossible fight against ten armored men can more than be considered a success. Now, if you would excuse me, I have to find him.” The elf snapped defensively. He knew he would have to apologize later but honestly, she really didn’t have any right to talk about Dorian. He did the best he could with the tools at hand. He simply used one tool a little too well.

Adelin had spun away in a dramatic sweep of his still half open robes and was standing outside of Dorian’s alcove before he even had time to think about what he was going to say.


	10. Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian needs some cheering up after accidentally beating up his boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I hope you guys like it- I'll try and get some more of my works out there this weekend since I won't have to worry as much about homework.

It took the elf longer than it should have to find the familiar mage. He had apparently taken the shortcut down by jumping over the railing of the second floor library onto Solas’s level, then gone tearing down the hallway towards Cullen’s office. Cullen hadn’t seen him, but then again when Adelin came through he found the man had fallen asleep on top of some paperwork. Probably another lyrium headache.

 

Any way, it had taken several hours and Adelin checking numerous times to make sure that there were no horses missing from the stables before he finally found Dorian- hiding in the debris in one of the unused towers near Cullen’s own tower. The one that had the old bed with an axe buried in one post of it. The elf probably would have missed him if Dorian hadn’t sneezed and kicked up a cloud of dust.

 

The elf sighed softly and made his way towards the pyromancer with as much care and grace as he would make as he moved towards an angry snake.

 

“Dorian, it’s alright.”

 

“No, it isn’t. Go away and let me wallow in my self pity.” A dusty, grumpy voice called out and seemed to shuffle itself farther away from Adelin’s boots.

 

“You know I would never let you do that. Move over.” The elf replied, dropping down to his stomach and wriggling under the bed beside Dorian until the two of them were nose-to-nose.

 

“You know, for someone with such a smooth tongue, you pick some of the _least_ romantic places for us to have these intimate moments.”

 

“Oh, is that so? Please, do give me an example of when I, the Great Dorian Pavus, have not been as smooth as glass.”

 

“Cutting my hair when we went back in time, burning off my eyebrows, freezing my boots to the ground because you had that bet with Solas you could teach yourself ice magic, kissing me when we were in the middle of that battle with the Giant, playing nurse when I get hurt and bribing me into eating by saying I get one kiss for every mouthful of food I swallow down, convincing Sera that waxing Varric’s chest would be a good idea for a prank…”

 

“Alright, Alright, I digress. I may not have the _best_ timing in the world.”

 

Adelin smiled and pulled the other mage so that his smile was only inches away from Dorian’s stubbornly not wobbly-sad lips, crystal drops determinedly staying just inside the Tevinter’s eyes.

 

“I’d rather you have rubbish timing than shotty aim. Imagine how many accidental haircuts I would have had by now!” He smiled laughingly, giving Dorian a few slow, chaste kisses and purposely messing up his hair as much as he dared. Dorian could be quite the little fire ball when his hair was in disarray, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

 

Dorian pushed the elf away slowly, crawling out from his hiding place and moving to the remains of a mirror that were propped up in one corner. He took a glance at his dusty robes and messy hair, but he didn’t seem interested in preening right then. He looked like he just wanted to curl in on himself until he was so small no one would ever notice him again. His eyes had that same far-away look he got when he was trying to pull his mana back to him after his Simulacrum began to fade.

 

“I don’t deserve this. You. I am... I don’t know what I am anymore. Foolish, I suppose.” He chuckled darkly.

 

“Dorian, it’s alright. I’m right here. Just talk to me. _Me._ Not that bloody mirror.” The elf said softly as he came behind him, hugging him around the waist and letting his hair tickle the other mage’s neck and cheek.

 

Finally having had enough, or maybe just having too much to say and not enough courage to say it, the Tevinter spun away from both the Inquisitor and the mirror roughly, dusting himself off as he went and once again fleeing the scene. Adelin decided it might be better not to follow him this time. He had a meeting with his Advisors that he was late for, and as much as he wanted to chase after him he knew that Dorian needed time to gather himself. Being open had never been easy for him...

 

~~~~~

 

It was late by the time Adelin made it back to his chambers. So late that the dim half-moon had practically finished its journey across the sky for the night. The lack of light from the moon mixed with the darkness caused by not having a fire currently roaring in the hearth is probably why Adelin didn’t notice Dorian right away.

 

The human gave a loud, half-snoring intake of breath that practically had the elf jumping out of his skin in surprise before he realized who it was.

 

The moon was relatively dark, but the way it shone on Dorian’s peacefully sleeping face made it seem as if every ounce of light in the world were concentrated on this one beautiful man. Inky black hair still dusty and slightly messy from earlier, his head resting on his left fist almost as if he had fallen asleep looking at the paper that was laid in front of him on the desk. His right arm stretched out bonelessly on the table, a black quill still held loosely between his fingers with dried ink on the desk and dried blots dripped between his fingers where the pen had slipped.

 

Adelin smiled softly. He stripped out of his armor so that he was only wearing the simple dark green tunic and brown leggings his clan had given him. He hadn’t been given the opportunity to do so after getting out of the war room because Cullen had asked for a quick sparring session to make sure he was still in shape(and could still control what was left of his Templar abilities). Which of course meant that the two men had sparred until neither one could or wanted to stand and fight any longer(so maybe fifteen minutes ago. The meeting ended hours ago).

 

The elf loved seeing him like this. Dorian held so much sadness in those silver eyes. Every line in his handsome face spoke of hardships that Adelin wouldn’t wish on even Corypheus. Every scar a battle that hadn’t gone as planned. Every ounce of hurt he carried made him want to hold the other man close and shield him from the world, give him every happiness and answer his every wish. But he couldn’t do that. So for now he was just going to have to make due with watching his slow breathing, the gentle flicker of his eyelids as he walked through the Fade.

 

Careful not to wake his lover for the time being, Adelin plucked the quill from Dorian’s fingers and then tenderly lifted him up and over to the bed with the ease of one who was used to lugging around camping equipment and helping to pull Aravels from the mud.

 

Dorian stirred slightly once he was in the plush bed, shifting this way and that as Adelin’s long digits deftly pulled away his usual white robes and endless rows of pointless buckles so that he could sleep comfortably. The elf grabbed a few extra furs, knowing that if he didn’t he’d wake up to find Dorian had stolen all of the blankets.

 

Knowing Dorian would sleep for at least a few more hours, he took his chance and filled his private bath tub as quietly as possible. Checking to make sure Dorian was still asleep, he slid into the magically warmed water (courtesy of a trick Dorian had taught him) and let the water wash away the stress and muck of the day.

 

~~~~~

 

He wasn’t entirely surprised a few minutes later when he felt soft, warm hands gently kneading his angular shoulders. He sighed through his nose with a groan and leaned back into the touch, eyes sliding closed when Dorian’s moustache gave a tickly kiss on the tip of his long ear.

 

“Ma vhenan?”

 

“Relax, Amatus~” Dorian purred “You deserve a good break. It’s been a long day for you.”

 

He slowly raised one hand up to where Dorian’s fingers were deftly digging into his shoulders, gently sliding his fingers around his companion’s wrist and then tightening his grip firmly.

 

As much as it pained him, Adelin couldn’t just accept this. Dorian was still upset. He could practically feel it in the way the man moved. Could feel it in the way his magic twitched and snapped around him rather than flowing and igniting, breathing like the fire he wielded.

 

“Adel-”

 

“Stop.” The elf cut him off, turning to face him and still holding tightly to the other mage’s wrist in case he tried to escape again.

 

“Dorian, whatever it is you’re beating yourself up over, stop. I love you. You are beautiful, incredible, amazing, and one of the most talented people I know- and I’m not just talking about your magic.”

 

“Stop that. I could have killed you! I pumped so much electricity into your body that your hands were _burned_. You can take attacks from _Pride Demons_ \- do you understand how much energy must have been in that one bolt?!”

 

“What happened was an accident. It was just a mistake- everything is fine now.”

 

“No, no it isn’t. I saw the way that scar curled around you earlier. If not for Vivienne, that scar would have been permanent. If I had actually known what I was doing with that lightning, I might have actually blown you to pieces!”

 

“Actually the scars fade after a few days. And as for knowing what to do with the electricity, I would hope you’d avoid shocking me with it. A little bit gives me a good boost, with a blow like that I can hardly contain all the energy.”

 

“You’re trying to change the subject here. You really don’t get it, do you?”

 

“Get what?”

 

“Adelin, you think that saving me and saving the world will make this world better. But if it costs you, your soul, your life... No. It’s not worth it. This world will never be worth the soul of one good man. The best man in the world. It’s not that I can’t imagine a world without you in it. It’s... I-... I. Can’t say it. Not yet... but, Adelin... for me, there is no world without you. I’ll burn it to the ground myself before I let you fade away.”

 

“Shh. It’s not going to come to that. I won’t let it. It’ll take every ounce of strength Corypheus and his Old Gods have to tear me away from you. I love you, Dorian Pavus. I love you more than anything else in this whole Blighted world.”

 

Dorian had tears in his eyes again, angry tears from his own speech mixed together with happy, choking tears from Adelin’s. He hid his face in his hands, wiping streaks of khoal down his cheeks when he finally brought his head back up.

 

He smirked softly, that cute little uptick of lips that told Adelin everything he needed to know.

 

“So you’ve had this happen before, then?” Dorian began, going back to earlier in the conversation.

 

“Had a literal God of Sex hurl one of the most powerful lightning bolts in the sky down on my head? No, can’t say I have.” The elf grinned, trying to lighten the mood a bit while he had the opening. (Dorian was definitely NOT trying to suppress a blushing smile right now) “But I was told that this is how… How Keeper found out that I was a Storm Mage. I was so little I barely remember it, honestly.”

 

They were silent for a short time, Adelin lost in a piece of his broken past while Dorian moved to the side of the tub so that the elf could stop craning his neck back to see him;

 

“Why did you have to contain all that energy? Why not just send it back like you did when you were a child, then?”

 

“If I had done that with the three of you so close by, the electricity might have been more attracted to your armor than the metals in the ground or the water in the clouds. I sent as much as I dared out into the bandits around me. You might have survived it since you’re used to magical energy, but Bull and Blackwall would have been burnt to a crisp with all that metal.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Feel better now?”

 

“A bit. I do feel a chilly though. Perhaps I- Oommf!” Dorian was again cut off, this time by a pair of soft lips pressing hard against his own. The vicegrip on his wrist eased away, Adelin trailing his fingers up to cup Dorian’s face against his own while the Tevinter slid his own fingers up and back, tangling them in the elf’s long bowl-cut red hair. Tugging him closer, Dorian soon found himself with a lapful of dripping wet Inquisitor peppering him with kisses and running his hands underneath what was left of his clothes.

 

Dorian burned (not literally) a trail of kisses from Adelin’s still scarred collarbone all the way to the tip of his adorably long, delicate ears, using just a touch of his magic to heat his breath and his hands where they gripped a pair of slender hips, Dorian gasped out a shaky breath against his lover’s ear and whispered;

 

“Take me to bed, _Amatus~?_ ”

 

Adelin wasn’t sure which one of them was more surprised by the low growl that came out of his throat, but then Dorian made _that_ _noise_ and they were both too far gone to even begin to care.

 


End file.
